


Something Like That

by juniordreamer



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Background GingerRose, Drinking Games, Dry Humping, Exhibitionism, F/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:28:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22981003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juniordreamer/pseuds/juniordreamer
Summary: “You really don’t want to kiss me, do you?” she says, more statement of fact than question.Ben stills for a moment, deep brown eyes glinting in the darkness as he looks at her, considering.  “I—” he begins, “That’s not—I don’t—look, it’s just that this isn’t—”  He sighs, hands closing to fists at his side as he stammers, "Not like this, okay?  Just—not like this."Or: Rey and Ben are dared by their roommates to play seven minutes in heaven.  It does not go as planned.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 67
Kudos: 689
Collections: Reylo Prompt Fills (@reylo_prompts)





	Something Like That

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a truly incredible New Girl-inspired prompt submitted to [@reylo_prompts](https://twitter.com/reylo_prompts) by [@adamdriveruwu](https://twitter.com/adamdriveruwu). I had too much fun writing this one, guys (hence the word count).

They haven’t all had a night like this in—too long, probably. Much longer than any of them ever anticipated or planned for. But that’s what happens when the years have the audacity to keep tumbling on. Life gets busy, simple as that.

But now they’re all tipsy, definitely. Perhaps even outright drunk. Even Ben, color rising high on his cheeks and a lazy grin on his usually stern face.

Music is thumping through the loft—too loud, echoing off the wood floors and bare brick walls and it’s only a matter of time before Snap from next door starts banging on the door, yelling for them to keep it down. But they passed the point of neighborly consideration about three shots ago and until someone or something manages to reel them back in, for now they’re just _gone._ Positively giddy in their youthful antics.

“I dare Rose,” Finn slurs around an enormous sip of wine, one pinky raised high and proud in a hilarious show of propriety considering he’s wearing one sock and a tie wrapped around his forehead, “to read one of the sexts Hux sent her the other night.”

There’s a moment of silence where everyone processes what Finn has just said and then the room descends into chaos, four voices rising to speak at once.

“Rose and Hux are _sexting_ now??” Poe splutters around a tortilla chip.

“I told you that in confidence, Finn!” Rose cries indignantly.

“Why is this the first I’m hearing of this?” Rey directs toward Rose.

“I knew it,” Ben says softly.

Rose turns to Finn first, her features twisted up in a classic Tico death stare. He raises his hands innocently in response, eyebrows high on his head and a devilish grin on his face. “Hey, all’s fair in truth or dare.”

Rose rolls her eyes at that and turns next to Rey, her glare instantly softening to a look of apology. “I wanted to tell you,” she assures her friend. “I just thought it was too soon after—you know.”

Rey nods because she does know, her buzz dampening slightly at the reminder.

“Hey,” she shrugs, forcing a small smile to turn up her lips. “Just because Beau and I broke up doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear your good news. We had a good four months and now it’s over. I’m fine.”

“Really?” Rose asks, not looking entirely convinced.

“Swear,” Rey nods. 

The others all chime in then about how she’s better off anyway, how she can do better, how Beau was a hipster try hard with hobbity features that she shouldn’t think twice about. Everyone but Ben, who just sits there on the ground, long legs pulled up to his chest and arms wrapped around his knees, quiet. The way he always gets quiet whenever Beau’s name gets mentioned.

Rey wonders sometimes what it means. If maybe Ben doesn’t like Beau and could never find a way to tell her. Or maybe he just has no opinion of him at all, doesn’t spare him or their relationship a passing thought and therefore has no thoughts to offer when the subject comes up. Either way, it’s curious. Strange for a man with many thoughts and many opinions and little, if any, reservation about sharing them with others.

“Okay Rose, let’s hear it,” Poe breaks through Rey’s train of thought with a booming voice and an eyebrow wiggle as he gestures to the phone cradled in Rose’s lap.

She sighs as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, glancing first from where Poe and Finn are sprawled across the couch, to Ben and Rey and their place next to each other on the floor. “Fine,” she agrees slowly. “But you have to swear this never leaves the loft ever. Under threat of expulsion.”

“Expulsion?” Finn repeats wryly.

“That or death,” Rose shoots back with a none too innocent smile.

Poe pulls himself up to a sitting position as he raises a palm in the air, features somber and serious. “I solemnly swear.”

“As do I,” Rey adds, moving to mimic Poe’s actions.

“And me,” Finn adds reluctantly.

“Me too,” Ben agrees.

“Okay,” Rose nods as she unlocks her phone and begins to scroll. She stops after a second, a pretty flush rising up on her cheeks as her eyes scan over the words on the screen. “For context—”

“No context,” Finn cuts in. “Just read.”

“Fine.” Rose pauses for a second longer before taking a deep breath and beginning to read. “I am spellbound by the curve of your breasts, the weight of them in my palms as I dip my head low to slide my tongue along their peaks. Should you allow me to draw my hand along your center, I should know no greater bliss.”

There’s silence again as the group once again considers the information they’ve just received. Finn is the first to break it, his head thrown back in a riotous laugh that causes his wine to cascade over the side of the glass and onto Poe’s lap. It’s the laugh that breaks the camel’s back and once he starts, the rest of them can’t seem to stop, their eyes watering and their cheeks turning red with the effort. Even Rose can’t hold back a grin as she watches her friends dissolve into hysterics.

“Does he—” Poe tries between gasps, “—does he think he’s in a fucking regency novel?”

Rose shakes her head good naturedly. “He’s a _gentleman_ , Poe. A concept you’re no doubt unfamiliar with.”

“I think it’s romantic,” Rey manages between giggles, leaning over to wrap her arm around her best friend. “And you do have very nice peaks,” she can’t help but add, which sets them all of again.

It takes a while for the laughter to die down and by the time it does, they’ve somehow all managed to switch positions. Rose is on the couch by Poe, Finn is sprawled on the floor with his legs up on the coffee table, and Ben has somehow edged closer to Rey. Close enough that when she stretches her arms up in the air, she comes dangerously close to poking him in the eye.

“Okay next dare,” Finn says from his place on the floor, flicking the tie from where it’s fallen over his eyes. 

“Whose turn is it again?” Rose asks.

“Ben and Rey haven’t gone yet,” Poe answers.

This gets Finn’s attention. He rolls to his side so that he’s facing his two friends on the floor, a terribly evil grin on his face.

“Interesting,” he considers, eyes flitting between the two of them in a way that makes Rey brace for impact. “I dare you—” he pauses for dramatic effect—“to play seven minutes in heaven.”

“Oh my god,” Rose giggles.

“That’s a good one,” Poe chimes from the couch.

“What is seven minutes in heaven?” Ben asks.

The roommates groan in unison, no longer surprised by some of the gaps in Ben Solo’s otherwise vast collection of knowledge. 

Rey takes it upon herself to explain. “It’s a game where you have to go in a closet or a bedroom or whatever and kiss the other person for seven minutes.”

Ben’s eyes widen slightly as he considers this. “Like, consecutively?” he asks uncertainly.

Rey can’t help but giggle at that. “I mean, you’re allowed to breathe when you need to.”

“I don’t know, guys, isn’t that taking this a little too fa—”

His words are cut off as Poe and Finn work together to pull him up from the floor. From there, it’s a feat of pure drunken strength as they push and shove him in the direction of his bedroom on the other end of the loft. Rose isn’t far behind, her hand finding Rey’s to drag her along behind them. 

Ben continues to protest even as they’re both shoved through the entrance of his bedroom, the words dying on his lips as the door slams shut in their face. There’s the sound of a kitchen chair being jammed up against the doorknob, effectively locking them in, and then—silence. Except of course for the sound of their friends jeering and chanting from the other side of the door.

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

Rey laughs a little at the absurdity of it all before turning to look expectantly at Ben. 

“Well?” she asks, hands coming to rest on her hips. “How do you like it?”

Ben looks at her like she’s just asked whether he prefers his chicken medium or medium raw. “How do I like what?” he asks incredulously.

“To be kissed,” she answers, gesturing to the door and the place just beyond it where their roommates are still cheering them on.

He steps back from her. Takes an actual Solo-sized step away from her, arms crossing defensively over his chest. “I don’t.”

Maybe it’s the alcohol still running through her system. Or the fact that she devoured three brownies mere minutes ago, the sugar going straight to her brain. But she doesn’t understand what he means, can’t quite put the pieces together in a way that makes sense. “You don’t like to be kissed?” she asks, brow furrowing in confusion. 

“No, I—” He huffs a breath, runs a hand through his hair. “I _like_ to be kissed, I just don’t think it’s a good idea if _we_ kiss.”

It’s probably _definitely_ the alcohol and not the sugar that makes her step a little closer toward him, head tilting as she peers up into his eyes. “Why wouldn’t it be a good idea? Afraid I have cooties?”

He actually rolls his eyes at that, which only makes her grin. Because this is the Ben she knows. The eternal grump, sharp tongued and narrow eyed and almost cold, if he wasn’t actually so warm. “I don’t think you have _cooties_ , Rey, this isn’t fifth grade.”

“Right, definitely not fifth grade,” she nods seriously. “Probably closer to eighth, in fact.” 

There’s a slap on the door then that makes them both jump before Finn’s voice croons through the crack at the bottom. “What are you guys doing in there?” he asks at a volume that isn’t entirely necessary given the fact they’re only separated by a few spare inches of wood. “Are you kissing? I don’t hear any kissing!”

“We’re getting to it!” Rey shouts back, but Ben only rolls his eyes and shakes his head. Takes _another_ step away from her and okay, maybe her feelings are starting to get a little bit hurt now. “You really don’t want to kiss me, do you?” she says, more statement of fact than question.

Ben stills for a moment, deep brown eyes glinting in the darkness as he looks at her, considering. “I—” he begins, “That’s not—I don’t—look, it’s just that this isn’t—” 

Rey doesn’t think she’s ever seen him so flustered. So unsure of himself. He’s usually so steady. So unbelievably rock solid. And the truth is they’ve had moments like this before. When they’re the last two still awake in the loft and Rey slides closer to him on the couch to steal his body heat. When they happen to walk into the bathroom at the same time and end up sharing toothpaste over the sink. Once, when she came home one early Sunday morning, long before the sun had risen after a terrible fight with Beau and found him waiting up for her in the kitchen, a tub of ice cream already perfectly melted and waiting for her on the counter.

They had shared the same spoon then and she remembers thinking, in the hazy light of early dawn, what it might be like to be kissed by Ben Solo. To be taken in his big hands, drawn against his wide chest, devoured by that perfect mouth.

She may have even pictured it once or twice, fingers sliding between her legs to try to work out what exactly it might feel like. To have him pressed there too.

The memories flash through Rey’s mind as she stands there, watching him stutter his way through a list of excuses she isn’t entirely paying attention to. Because even as he’s talking, she sees the way his eyes keep darting from her lips to the sports bra covering her chest, her shirt discarded and forgotten at some earlier point in the night. She feels her nipples pull tight against the material under his frantic gaze and it’s only a second later that he notices the change, his face going pale and his hands closing to fists. 

She isn’t sure what to do with that flickering gaze. The wild intensity that suddenly overtakes his features. It’s like she’s watching his resolve crack in slow motion, as a fire lights his eyes and a new ferocity tenses his muscles and this time, when she steps forward again, he doesn’t step back. He doesn’t move at all.

“Just—kiss me,” she tells him, the best she can manage in her current state, with her palms sweating and her stomach twisting into delightful knots over the way he’s looking at her. Over the pure _anticipation_ of the moment. “So we can get out of here,” she thinks to add.

He does move then, closes the distance between them so that his shirt brushes the bare skin of her stomach and when he breathes long and deep, the drag of the air ghosts along her face. And then he’s reaching for her with one of those hands of his—huge and calloused and trembling slightly as it closes gently around her waist. Rey shudders at the touch, at the slight slip of his fingers across her skin and this is _it._ The moment where she’ll finally learn exactly what kind of kisser Ben Solo is.

“I want to hear TONGUES BATTLING FOR DOMINANCE, PEOPLE!” Finn bellows through the door and just like that, Ben freezes, the stony resolve returning back to his features as he pulls away, the room suddenly feeling so much colder than it had been just moments before. 

“Ben,” Rey starts, a little desperate to not let this end like this, before she’s gotten her answer. But he cuts her off with a wave of his palm and a final, harsh exhale.

“Stop, Rey,” he tells her, not unkindly.

“I just wanted—”

“Not like this, okay?” And this does make her stop. Makes her freeze with her lips parted and her hands halfway in the air, reaching for him. “Just—not like this.”

_Not like this_ , Rey repeats in her mind. _Not like this?_ What the hell does he mean _not like this._ The words are almost on her lips, just on the edge of slipping past her tongue. But Ben is pounding on the door now, his knuckles rapping against the wood so harshly she swears she feels the floor shake beneath her feet.

“Let us out, guys,” he calls to their friends on the other side. “Come on, open the door.”

“Sorry bro, you’ve got two minutes left on the clock,” Finn answers with a laugh. 

“Ben—” Rey starts, already plotting the many ways she will seek revenge on Finn once they get out of here, but he’s already turning away and stalking toward his bed, reaching under the frame and pulling out a tool box. From there, she can only watch as he comes back to the door and starts hammering away at the hinges.

He makes short work of it and if Rey wasn’t busy feeling awkward and maybe a little humiliated over this sudden turn of events, she might appreciate the way his muscles strain against his shirt as he works to remove the pins attaching the door to the frame. He wrenches it free once it’s loose, revealing their friends on the other side, a mixture of shock and humor on each of their faces.

“Did he just—” Finn starts.

Poe barks a laugh as he shakes his head incredulously. “He definitely did.”

Ben’s chest is rising and falling with the force of his breaths, his hands clenched into fists by his side. “I’m going to bed now,” he says slowly, not meeting any of their eyes. “So if you could just—”

His words hang in the air, sucking the humor from the room. And there’s really nothing left for Rey to do then but join the others in the hall as Ben turns around and collapses face first onto this bed, door still leaning haphazardly against the wall.

Rey tries to laugh it off as they make their way back to the living room, but it doesn’t quite feel right on her face and anyway, it’s clear Rose doesn’t buy it for a second.

The shorter girl wraps her arm around Rey’s shoulder as they fall back together on the couch.

“For what it’s worth,” she says with a smile, “I’d kiss you for seven minutes any day.”

\- - -

It’s much later when Rey sneaks from her bedroom and out into the kitchen. Nearly early, even—the loft quiet now save for the soft sounds of the others sleeping it off in their rooms. Her buzz is long gone, replaced by a ravenous hunger and okay, maybe a little heartache as she attacks the pan of brownies left out on the counter and replays the events of the night in her mind.

It shouldn’t bother her. She knows it shouldn’t bother her. Her and Ben are roommates. Friends, or something like it. There’s never been any tangible proof, any outright indication that they might be something more.

But his words keep echoing in her mind. _Not like this,_ he had said. But if not like that, then what? She’s desperate to know. Should have found a way to ask.

She’s two brownies in when she hears him behind her. Those heavy footsteps. Those low, steady breaths. She doesn’t look at him. Can’t quite quiet down the hurt she still feels over his rejection. Which is ridiculous considering she only just broke up with her boyfriend and should be feeling sad about _that_ and not _this_ , but she is nothing if not a walking mess of misplaced emotions.

She does watch him though, from the corner of her eye as he stalks to the sink, fills a glass to the brim and then downs it in one go, throat bobbing even in the darkness.

She’s fully content on ignoring him, waiting until he finishes with his drink and disappears back to his room, but then he’s walking toward her. Drawing closer and closer until he’s right up on her and she has no choice but to turn to face him, back colliding with the edge of the countertop.

He’s in grey sweatpants and a shirt so crisp and white it looks like something he should be wearing under a blazer rather than sleeping in. But then again, she’s probably not one to comment on pajama fashion considering she’s only in her underwear and a raggedy old t-shirt that falls halfway to her knees.

He’s looking at her like he does sometimes. Like he wants to tell her something, maybe. Only he never does. Never gives her a single clue as to what he possibly could be thinking as he stares down at her. Rey tries not to fidget under that stare. Tries not to give away what she’s thinking either. How she wanted to kiss him earlier. How she wanted _him_ to want to kiss her. How she can’t stop thinking about just what the hell he meant when he said _not like this._

But she’s never been good at hiding her emotions and when his lips part just slightly, tongue sliding out to wet them, she thinks he probably knows. Thinks it’s probably written all over her stupid face for him to read at will.

“You have—” he says suddenly, making her jump. Then he’s reaching out tentatively with one of his hands, thumb connecting with the corner of her mouth for half a second before swiping gently to the side. “—chocolate,” he finishes, bringing that same thumb to his lips to lick it clean.

Rey is pretty sure her brain is malfunctioning because she can’t seem to move. Can’t seem to do anything but gaze up at him, lips parted and chest rising and falling too rapidly for someone just _standing in the kitchen_. But truly what else is she supposed to do as she watches his tongue slide against the pad of his thumb, licking up every crumb of the chocolate that was just on her face.

“Th—thanks,” she manages to croak, which makes him smile. Or _smirk,_ rather, all his frantic energy from earlier in the night seemingly dissolved, replaced by the kind of steady calm she’s used to feeling from him. 

And if there’s any time to ask, she thinks, any time at all for her to get an answer to the question that’s been plaguing her all night, she figures this is it. She takes a breath, staring straight up into those fiery eyes, and parts her lips to speak. 

But before she can get a word out, before she even really knows what’s happening, he’s leaning into her. Stepping into what little space was left between them to wrap one hand around the nape of her neck, the other closing around her waist as he pulls her up and up and _up_ , lips crashing suddenly into hers.

Rey is caught so off guard she isn’t entirely sure what to do at first. If she should lean in or pull away or run back to her room before this can go too far, but it’s so _hot,_ his hands and lips burning her up. Making her want more. 

He kisses her hard and fast. So fast she can barely keep up with the slide of his tongue or the crush of his lips over hers. It’s overwhelming, overpowering. So different from how she pictured it would be. So much more. Her mind is racing, her body _singing_ and before she can talk herself out of it, she’s meeting him exactly where he is. Giving as good as she gets. 

Her hands fist in his hair as he drags her bottom lip between his teeth, biting down _just_ to the point of pain before releasing her to lave his tongue against the fresh indentations he’s left there. Rey can’t help the shaky moan that falls from her lips as he strokes the spot over and over before moving to drag his mouth down the column of her throat. 

He’s everywhere all at once, his knee slotting between her legs to bring her higher, _closer_ , and once it connects with the center of her thighs, she can’t help but grind down a little. And then a lot, his hands gripping her ass, encouraging the movement. And oh god, she could come from this. Like she’s fifteen and straddling a boy in the back of a car. Like this is high school and her hormones are revved up to ten and she doesn’t need fingers or hands or a cock so long as she has a thigh between her legs.

And he’s kissing her all the while. Like she’s never been kissed before. Devoured, really. Totally, completely eaten up with his tongue hot in her mouth and his lips bruising hers and she’s _wet._ Her underwear so soaked through she wonders if there will be a wet spot on his sweatpants when they finally come to their senses. _If_ they come to their senses. But for now, there’s no sign of stopping as he palms her tits through her shirt, pinches her nipples until she almost screams and he has to shush her, whisper in her ear about how she needs to be quiet. About how she’s going to wake up the whole loft if she can’t find a way to silence her moans.

She nods, tries to hold it in even as he pushes his leg higher, works her hips faster, and when she fails to quiet the moan it drags from her, he covers her mouth with his to kiss her through it. 

“Ben,” she whispers against his lips, half crazed but needing to tell him. Needing to warn him that if he doesn’t stop rocking her hips, if he doesn’t stop pulling at her nipples through her shirt and licking into her mouth, she is going to come. She’s going to come right there in the kitchen, right there on his thigh.

The message gets lost in transit somewhere between her brain and her mouth, but Ben seems to understand what she’s trying to say anyway. Only he doesn’t stop. Doesn’t slow down. He only bends low to bring his lips to her ear, voice low and ragged as he urges her on. 

“Come for me, Rey,” he tells her. “I want to see what it looks like when you fall apart.”

And oh fuck, that’s really all it takes for her to get there. For her muscles to tighten and her cunt to clench and her mouth to fall open in a cry that he watches for a few impossibly long seconds, eyes dark and intense, before swallowing it down with his lips. 

It shouldn’t really be possible, the intensity of her orgasm. From nothing more than the width of his thigh between her legs and the stroke of his tongue against hers, but who is Rey to argue with evidence that’s presented so clearly for her to examine? She can only ride it out, hands twisted in his shirt, holding on for dear life as her muscles turn to jelly and her legs nearly give out as the wave crashes over her. Lucky, she thinks hazily, that he’s there to catch her in his hands, to pull her back to him so effortlessly. Like letting her fall was never even an option. Like catching her is the easiest thing in the world.

The silence is loud in the aftermath. Just the sound of her panting and the slow, gentle brush of his lips on hers as she comes back down to earth. He pulls back a little once she does, gives her room for her to press a palm to her sweaty forehead, a shaky laugh filling the quiet as she contemplates the reality of what they’ve just done.

Ben doesn’t smile, though. Doesn’t smirk. Only presses another final kiss to her lips before drawing up to stare at her the way he sometimes does. The way she thinks she really likes.

“I meant something like that,” he says softly. 

And as he takes her hand to pull her back through the loft to the privacy of her bedroom, she thinks it’s really the only answer she needs.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me mostly on twitter these days at [juniordreamer2](https://twitter.com/juniordreamer2). Occasionally on [tumblr](https://juniordreamer.tumblr.com/) as well.


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